


Parallels, Deviants

by pyalgroundblz (acidtonguejenny)



Series: And Yet Different [1]
Category: Dresden Files - Jim Butcher
Genre: Headcanon, M/M, Self-cest, Timey Wimey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-14
Updated: 2011-10-14
Packaged: 2017-10-24 14:40:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/264629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acidtonguejenny/pseuds/pyalgroundblz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was a coincidence that they happened to drop by in the same month. <i>He</i> just wanted to check in, to make sure the timelines were intact, maybe to offer what kind of indirect support he could get away with. The other one was probably just causing trouble.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Parallels, Deviants

**Author's Note:**

> My headcanon is that Cowl is an Evil!Future!Harry from another time stream. I also have Meddling!Good!Future!Harry. Here, they meet :D I ship this way too hard for what it is.
> 
> xposted to lj

It was a coincidence that they happened to drop by in the same month. He just wanted to check in, to make sure the timelines were intact, maybe to offer what kind of indirect support he could get away with. The other one was probably just causing trouble.

They shared a rooftop during the climax of Harry's latest adventure, Cowl silent and standing, Dresden seated, one leg dangling and squinting at the struggle below.

"Look at the way he throws all of that energy around." Dresden says, amused. They'd long since learned, the easiest way to keep things straight with transversal time travel was to treat each incarnate as a new individual. It helped that Harry was like a child to them, to both of them.

"Inexcusable waste." Cowl agrees, voice flat.

Dresden looks away from the battle, ignoring the echoing yelp he recognizes as Harry's. "You're an embarrassment to me." He says, mimicking the same deep, emotionless tone. "I hope you at least remember the Evil Overlord List."

Cowl's hood twitches minutely.

A wash of white and red and all colors inbetween flares up as something predictably explodes, casting dull light into Cowl's hood and briefly illuminating his features. Dresden's grin diminishes at the glimpse of scarred jawline, melting into something small and inexplicably fond.

Cowl reaches to tug the fabric more tightly around him, but Dresden rises to intercept the hand. He strokes a thumb over the tender inside of captured wrist, musingly considering the many scars and imperfections, the ones that are the same on him--and the ones that are different.

Moving with calculated care, Dresden sneaks his other hand into the depths of Cowl's hood and maps out the ragged lines of damaged flesh with his fingers, paying little heed to the other's sudden rigidity. He releases Cowl's hand to touch similar marring on his own face.

"This is where we split, isn't it." He says thoughtfully. "All of these times we've met when we weren't fighting, we've never talked about it."

"And what would we say?" Cowl says stiffly.

Dresden shrugs, still exploring. He weighs the urge to continue with both hands. Cowl is barely tolerating him as it is.

He indulges anyway, grinning to himself. Cowl's arms come up on reflex before he checks the motion, having evidently decided that his bad guy facade would have him remain resilient in the face of annoying, touchy alternate selves. Too late, though.

Dresden darts a glance to them and winks. He can feel teeth grinding beneath his palms.

This scarring isn't the same on both of them. On Cowl the damage is ugly, appearing more recently healed, and the skin is roughly textured, whereas Dresden's is simply tough, the discoloration notably less.

He shrugs, hands wandering to healthier skin, says "I don't know," smile fading. "Something though, right?" Lines begin to appear on his face where there had been none before. "Like, 'it sucks that everything _fucked up_ on you, but not me'? 'Sorry the destruction wasn't as convenient as usual'?"

Dresden can't resist soothing one thumb over rough lips when Cowl smirks. "'Better luck next time'?"

He laughs, surprised. "You haven't lost it yet. Tell me it doesn't feel good to snark again."

The street below has gone quiet, the brawl that initially drew them concluded. The people and miscellaneous other are creeping out from their holes. Sirens are audible further out, and approaching steadily.

"I am sorry though," Dresden says, solemn but still smiling, dropping his hands.

Cowl catches one and brings it back up, holding the heel of it against his lips. Dresden curls his fingers around his cheek.

"That is not a kiss," He chides, affecting a rascally leer.

"You are highly changeable." Cowl notes, tugging on his wrist. "I think I am not the only one of us missing a few eggs."

"Marbles," He corrects absently, allowing himself to be pulled in.

Kissing has never been the same since the scar; similar is probably true for Cowl. Damaged nerves allow for considerably less sensation, and he's come to rely on pressure to account for the difference. What results is a mutually hard, bruising, closed-mouth press that makes his teeth ache.

Cowl holds his arm out at a tricky angle and leaves him with only one hand unrestrained. Dresden uses it to pinch the back of the other's hood, and jerk it off before he can be prevented. Cowl growls against his mouth and bites at his lips, digging into numbness until a prickling of feeling makes its way across.

"That's what I said."

"Don't lie," Dresden licks the half-circle indentions of teeth, eyes flickering over unobscured features in his first peek beneath the hood.

He'd known what to expect, of course. Long countenance, spotting gray, even the despondent, flat quality to the eyes. Cowl twitches an expectant brow, to which Dresden only shrugs.

"It's me," he says.

Cowl is silent for a long moment, during which time he slides fingers up the back of Dresden's neck, and into his hair. He grips, pulls a little.

"Me," Cowl repeats lowly, contemplativly. Now that he can see, Dresden knows his eyes are lazy and half-lidded, fogged with attraction despite their foreboding emptiness.

It occurs to him to wonder, as his chin is tipped up and scratching lips mouth down his throat, that progress may have been made.


End file.
